


let’s pray we stay young, stay made of lightning

by tigriswolf



Series: unfinisheds [37]
Category: Highlander: The Series, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Crossover, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: “Hullo, lads,” JJ says, sauntering into the room.  He’s been feeling the pulse since he stepped into the hallway and he grins at the boys as he examines each of them, seeking the origin.  He settles on the curly one first but there’s another, pressed in close beside curly-boy.“You’re Byron Jones’ son!” the blond one says, drawing his attention.“I am indeed,” JJ agrees, throwing himself between the two on the sofa, the floppy-haired one and the one with the cheekbones. “I’ve been sent to offer advice on music but I’d like to discuss fame and the problems therein.”  He chuckles softly because fame and its problems is something JJ knows very well, watching how curly-boy curls into the fifth one, who’s watching JJ.[will never be finished]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title: let’s pray we stay young, stay made of lightning  
> Disclaimer: the real people belong to themselves; only some of the fictional ones are mine; title from ‘Girl Almighty’  
> Note: I don’t buy the every-immortal-is-a-foundling story.  
> Another note: this is basically a feel-good, fix-it story, okay? No real plot except that I wanted Methos to adopt H/L and his reaction to babygate. 
> 
> Ryan Greys – born 1985 (25 at start of story)  
> Adam Mathews – born 1986 (24 at start of story)  
> JJ Byron (James Byron Jones) – born 1987 (23 at start of story)  
> Byron Jones – dies 1997
> 
> Okay, so I really love the idea of this but I just didn’t like what I’d written. Then I realized (with help) that the characterization moved too quickly for Byron. I didn’t do his character growth justice, especially not for the relationship I want him to have with the boys. To make it work, I’d have to rewrite the whole thing, but I just… didn’t. But I still love the idea, so here’s what I have.

“Hullo, lads,” JJ says, sauntering into the room. He’s been feeling the pulse since he stepped into the hallway and he grins at the boys as he examines each of them, seeking the origin. He settles on the curly one first but there’s another, pressed in close beside curly-boy. 

“You’re Byron Jones’ son!” the blond one says, drawing his attention. 

“I am indeed,” JJ agrees, throwing himself between the two on the sofa, the floppy-haired one and the one with the cheekbones. “I’ve been sent to offer advice on music but I’d like to discuss fame and the problems therein.” He chuckles softly because fame and its problems is something JJ knows very well, watching how curly-boy curls into the fifth one, who’s watching JJ. 

“I’m Louis,” says the one curly-boy is tucked against. “This is Harry,” with a nod towards curly-boy. 

“I’m Niall,” says the blond and the floppy one beside JJ mumbles, “’m’Liam.” Finally, the last bursts out nervously, “Zayn.” 

“I’m told you boys are talented,” JJ says. “Why don’t you tell me what it is you’re all after here.” 

In the ensuing discussion, the five talk over each other about music and fame, about songs and poetry, about acclaim. He listens, studying each of them in turn, and when at last Liam falls silent, JJ rises to his feet. “To the stage,” he says, grinning. “Show me what you can do.” 

.

“Doc,” JJ says into his mobile as his driver pulls away, leaving the boys with their choreographer and plans to meet again tomorrow afternoon, once they’ve had time to think up questions. 

“How are you, JJ?” Doc asks cheerfully. 

“I’ve found two infants,” JJ informs him. “I’m in no place to look after them.” He’s never been in a place to look after anyone. 

“And you’re telling me why?” Doc asks. “What in the past century makes you think I want any more students? Remember how my last one turned out?” 

JJ laughs. “It was a bumpy road there for awhile but he has shaped up recently, yeah?” 

Doc just sighs. “How young are they?” 

“Pre-immortal,” JJ tells him. “In a band for a shite reality show, but they’re all talented lads. I foresee great things for them.” 

Doc sighs again. “Give me their names and I’ll keep an eye on ‘em ‘til the next thing comes along.” 

“Thank you, Doc,” JJ says before going into a detailed account of the afternoon. It’s one of Doc’s rules, to keep the madness from returning. For nearly two centuries, he’d focused on what he didn’t have, striving for the heavens; now, he focuses on the present, remaining rooted to the earth. 

As he does at the end of every conversation, Doc asks, “Are you happy, JJ?” 

Always, JJ is to reply honestly. No matter what he’s feeling. “I am,” he says. 

“That’s good, child,” Doc says. “I’ll speak with you soon. Have fun with the infants tomorrow.” 

“We’ve arrived, Mr. Jones,” the driver announces, so JJ tells Doc goodbye. 

.

They look so young, JJ thinks as he walks into the room where Niall and Louis are throwing candies at the other three. Entirely too young to have already signed the contract he knows they signed. He’s met men like Cowell and his goons before, in his previous life. He hadn’t truly cared about anything then except finding the next rush so he signed whatever they told him to, giving away his songs and his music for a pittance, and hadn’t been bothered since he’d move on whenever he decided to. 

“Let’s talk music,” he says, sinking to the floor. They all startle and on reflex, Louis throws a handful of candy at him. JJ laughs at the horrified gasps and lets all of the candies but one hit him; that one, he catches, unwraps, and plops into his mouth. 

If any of them were over twenty, he’d have made it sensual. But they’re all so young. He’s matured so much since his last death. 

“I am so sorry,” Louis says. Niall steps away from the bag, hands innocently at his side, and Liam clearly wants to berate Louis, but JJ just laughs again. 

“No harm done with but a bit of fun,” JJ tells them. “Come, join me. I’m sure you have questions, lads. I’ve you for the next hour before you rehearse tomorrow’s performance for both myself and Cowell.” He truly does try to hide his utter distaste for the man but Louis raises an eyebrow. JJ continues, “Questions and then I’ll give you lot some advice, yeah?”

“Okay,” Harry says and he’s the first to drop down. Louis settles beside him, to absolutely no one’s surprise. 

The pulse of their latent quickenings is a quiet hum. JJ’s never spent much time around any other immortals but Doc and Ryan, especially young ones. It’s a sensation somewhere between pleasant and slightly threatening. Part of him wants to counsel them to all back out now because in front of the world is no place to ever realize you’re immortal. 

They each have multiple questions so JJ has them go around the circle. Most of the questions are good, about logistics and music; Liam and Louis have questions about contracts and management. Zayn pulls out his phone to take notes. 

When the hour is over, Liam leads the way to the stage. Cowell is already waiting for them, annoyed because of something. He gives JJ a strained smile and starts tossing orders at the boys, who all scramble to obey. JJ settles back to watch a completely uninspired performance, though the boys give it their all. The song is cliché, the choreography and staging is mediocre, and Zayn and Louis are criminally underused. 

He says as much to Cowell, who scowls at him. “They are my group, thank you,” he says all snottily. “I think I know what’s best for them in this competition.” 

“In this competition, of course,” JJ murmurs. He’d explored on the internet last night, seeing the fervor building, and he knows that Cowell already has it all planned out. JJ’s met his like before, he knows their kind. “Might I have your permission, Mr. Cowell,” he asks with all the charm he’s learned in 200 years, “to take the boys to dinner? They’ve put in quite a bit of work, after all.” 

He knows that Cowell wants to say no but unfortunately for him, Niall has drifted close enough to hear and he shouts, “JJ Byron wants to take us to dinner!” 

Cowell is still playing the _Caring Mentor_ role, so he honestly has no choice. JJ wonders how long it’ll be before the boys begin seeing through it.

“They must be back at the house by 9,” Cowell says, with a benign smile. He claps Louis on the back and gives JJ a frosty glance as the boys stream past them to the door. 

“Of course, Mr. Cowell,” JJ says as he follows them. 

.

Away from the studio, somehow Harry and Louis are even handsier with each other. They listen to JJ’s stories but barely look away from the other. Liam, Niall, and Zayn pepper JJ with more questions; Niall is particularly interested in Ryan Greys, JJ’s guitarist and songwriting partner. Ryan occasionally sings duets with JJ and some of the fans keep clamoring for an entire album of it. Doc, of course, finds the whole thing hilarious. 

“I’ll be at the show tomorrow,” JJ says as the boys pile out of the car, “and the results show the night after.” His gaze lingers on Harry, grinning at Louis. “If you’ve any more questions, feel free to ask.” 

“Thank you,” Liam says, bright-eyed and sincere. He’s a gifted boy; they all are. 

“Goodnight,” JJ calls as Liam carefully closes the door. JJ signals the driver to wait until all of them have gone into the house. He pulls out his mobile and dials Ryan, asking, “Where are you?” as soon as Ryan picks up. 

…

Thirteen years ago, Byron had fully expected that he would die. Had longed for it. Nothing else had been enough. Would have ever been enough. 

But when Duncan MacLeod swung his sword, Byron’s teacher’s blade had met it. “You won’t take him too, MacLeod,” Doc had said, firm as the earth beneath their feet, cold as a blizzard’s wind. 

Byron blinked, exhaled, watched as MacLeod stepped back in shock. “What are you doin’?” MacLeod demanded. Doc stepped in front of Byron, sword at the ready. 

No one died that night. Byron performed his concert, feeling more alive than he had since his first death, and Doc was waiting for him when it was over. “Byron Jones dies tonight,” Doc informed him. “I’ve kept you alive, and alive you will stay.” 

Byron Jones, lead singer of Lord Byron & the Undead, ironically died of a drug overdose in 1997 at the age of 29. Thousands across the world mourned him. 

Doc took him to a temple and sat him down with a view of the world Byron hadn’t seen in a long time, settled across from him, their knees touching, and asked, “What do you want?” 

“I… want to feel alive,” Byron admitted, reaching hesitantly for Doc’s hand. He had loved Doc’s hands once. Had written poetry about them. He traced the lines on Doc’s palm, slowly caressed each of Doc’s fingers. “I search and search for the thrill, the rush—but I am ever only numb.” 

“Are you at all happy?” Doc asked softly, twisting his hand to grip Byron’s wrist. 

Hearing the wind roar, feeling Doc’s quickening reach to envelop him (wondering for the first time what Doc’s true age might be), Byron confessed, “I’m not sure I’ve ever felt happiness.” 

Doc had sighed, leaning forward to kiss Byron’s forehead. “Oh, my boy,” he murmured. “Rest. I’ll take care of things.” 

. 

Byron spent five years in that temple. Doc wasn’t there the entire time but he did guide Byron in the beginning through various meditations. Peace was a thing Byron had never felt in all his years but he found that he liked it. He’d sought his answers in the world around him but at last realized they’d ever been inside him. He wrote as he hadn’t since he’d been mortal and thought death eternal. 

He left the temple alone, settled in a nice flat in London, and continued writing. He still wanted to share his words with the world but his mad search for ever-greater thrills and rushes and dangers had died with Byron Jones. He would present himself as James Jones, Byron Jones’ son. With Doc’s help, it was possible. 

In 2004, when James Jones was 17 years old, he met Ryan Greys. 

.

“James,” Doc had said as James’ pulse slowed after sensing a new immortal. “Meet my current student, Ryan Greys.” Ryan was shorter than James with shaggy dark blond hair. Younger, too. “James, Ryan plays a mean guitar.” He smiled at James before turning to Ryan to say, “Ryan, James writes songs.” 

“Hey,” Ryan said, nodding. 

“Hey,” James said back. 

. 

They spent 2004 and 2005 getting familiar with each other’s styles, writing songs, recording demos, learning little tidbits about each other. They agreed to an accord, at first only because of Doc (or _Adam_ , as Ryan called him), but before long it was mutual respect, trust, and friendship. 

In 2006, they put together a band and spent months arguing about a name. It wasn’t until James admitted he was Byron Jones’ kid (with the photos and birth certificate to prove it) that they all settled on Byron’s Ghost as their band’s name. 

In 2007, they managed to get a recording contract. From there, everything just seemed to happen. 

Doc would pop in here and there, and he called every week. Ryan had his own demons. They’d shared a bit over the years, secrets and ghosts. Ryan had a bad experience with his first teacher, where Doc had apparently saved his life, which was why Doc had taken over. 

In 2009, after the release and success of their second album, James revealed to the world he was Byron Jones’ son and Byron’s Ghost rocketed into worldwide fame, led by their vocalist JJ Byron. 

…

“Why am I here, JJ?” Ryan asks, slouching in the seat next to him. The screaming audience screams louder. They’re sitting on the row closest to the judges, with the other guest mentors of the week. 

“One of the kids is an aspiring guitarist,” JJ tells him. “While I can play, I don’t love it the way you do. Figured you could talk to him.” 

JJ, who’s gotten used to the pulse of the boys over the past couple of days, doesn’t react when they get into range; Ryan does. He proceeds to sigh and drape a hand over his face. 

“Goddamn it, JJ,” he mutters. 

.

The kids put on a good show, though Ryan grumbles the same thing JJ did yesterday. While the judges provide critiques, Ryan shares an annoyed glance with JJ. As the boys bounce offstage, Ryan murmurs, “They’re so young.” 

Ryan died at 19. He’s learned to carry himself so that he looks older. According to Doc, who isn’t sure how old he was when he died, JJ managed to kill himself at the ideal age: 27. Somewhere between 25 and 35 is the best age to die; you’ve reached your physical peak and are old enough to not be discounted for looking youthful. 

“They’ve got serious potential,” Ryan says as the next act begins performing. “We gonna help?” 

“We can’t,” JJ says, leaning back in his seat. “We’re too high profile, and for the next few years, at least, their team will be holding the leash too tightly.” Ryan frowns so JJ nudges his arm. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the boys. Niall might faint, it’ll be fun.” 

Ryan snickers and sneaks out after JJ. Obviously, some of the audience sees them; JJ catches one of the girls’ eye and winks, bringing a finger to his lips. She gapes and ducks her head. JJ just grins and leads Ryan backstage. JJ figures the boys are in that room from the first afternoon, not that he needs that information to find them, with their quickenings pulsing gently. He remembers a conversation he had with Doc once, about how silly quickenings are, how dangerous. Doc informed him that once a certain age has been reached, immortals can control how much of their quickening is felt by others, but he wouldn’t say what that age was. 

“It feels wrong to not tell them,” Ryan whispers on the other side of the door, with JJ’s hand poised to push it open. “Dangerous.” 

“I’ve told Doc,” JJ says over his shoulder. “Let the decision be his.” 

Ryan nods, his shoulders loosening. “I can live with that.” 

.

Niall doesn’t faint. He does follow Ryan around like a duckling but Ryan seems to enjoy it. Zayn and Liam babble about the performance; Liam demands honest feedback from JJ, and he’s glad he can be honest about how well they all did. 

Louis’ pouting about something but it isn’t until he reaches his limit about whatever Harry’s been muttering to him in the corner that JJ finds out what it is: “I still didn’t have a solo, Harry! I’m glad all’a you sounded amazin’ this week, but I didn’t! I wasn’t anything!” He slips away from Harry’s arm and storms out of the room. 

Harry immediately jumps up to follow him. “Don’t,” JJ says. “I’ve got this.” He glances at Ryan before hurrying after the boy, who is either going somewhere to throw a destructive tantrum or hide in a dark corner. 

Louis’ tucked himself away in an unused closet and he gives JJ a fairly impressive glare when JJ opens the door. “Fuck off,” he bites out, not even caring that he was utterly in awe of JJ two days ago. He’s leaning against the back wall, arms around his knees, and while there’s tears in his voice, there are none on his face. 

“Well, I could do,” JJ says, crouching down so that he’s not looming. “Or I could tell you how to make it through the next few years.” 

Louis narrows his eyes. “You don’t like Simon Cowell.” He unfurls slightly. 

“You’re a very clever boy,” JJ tells him, utterly sincere. Louis can apparently tell because JJ is sure he’d react very poorly to patronizing. “I’m sure you’d survive no matter what, if you kept the boys with you, but if you keep one thing in mind, it might make it go easier.” 

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Really?” he drawls, injecting the word with all the disdain a teen can manage. 

JJ grins. “Contracts end, Louis. How long is the one you signed for?” 

“Five years,” Louis admits. 

“So you’ll be 23,” JJ muses. The same age JJ is now, if you ignore the 200 years that came before it. “If you’re successful, you and the boys, you’ll have weight to throw around you don’t have yet.” He nods, meeting Louis’ eyes. “Contracts end. You’re a talented lad, Louis. All of you are. At the moment, Liam has the most training and Harry the most marketability but you need to remember that _all_ of you bring something to the table.” 

Thirteen years ago, he’d met someone with as much talent, as much life, as much _music_ as this boy in front of him. In his madness, he’d destroyed that light. 

“I’ve had a single solo,” Louis says. “It was in the group number, with all of the acts. They don’t…” He shrugs. “I know I’ve the weakest voice. It just feels like I’m deadweight or summat.” 

At the top of a mountain, Byron had realized that everything he’d searched the world for was already in himself. He’d destroyed 76 lives, so much potential, so many poems that would never be shared with the world. 

“You, Louis Tomlinson,” he says now, “are full of music. You can let people who don’t understand it muffle it, shout it down. Or you can make sure you write and you sing and you share it because I promise there’s an audience waiting for you.” JJ glances over his shoulder but there’s still no one in this deserted place Louis found. He looks back at Louis and shuffles forward to murmur, “It’s _your_ band, Louis. They all look to _you_. Remember that.” 

Louis just gazes at him. JJ smiles. He then rolls to his feet and offers Louis a hand. “Shall we return to our fellows?” he asks. 

Louis takes his hand with a laugh. 

.

“I like them,” Ryan admits once they’ve returned to JJ’s hotel room. Cowell’s show is paying for it, else JJ would have chosen somewhere quieter. He relishes being able to enjoy solitude in a way he hadn’t for years, when all he’d wanted was a thrill. “They’re good lads.” 

“Come to bed,” JJ asks. He can’t stop thinking about all the potential he’d squandered, all the lives he’d ruined, and whether Ryan understands why JJ needs the company or not, he flops onto the bed and allows JJ to curl around him. 

JJ muffles his sobs of regret in Ryan’s skin and knows Ryan will never ask unless JJ wants him to.

.

Of course One Direction is not voted off that week; JJ and Ryan hug each of them goodbye. Ryan has given Niall his email, though it will of course go through a few proxies. JJ argues with himself (and Ryan, at lunch) but before they leave, JJ pickpockets Louis’ mobile and puts his number in. He likes all of them, of course, because they’re charming and funny, but while he’s got a soft-spot for Harry by virtue of Harry being pre-immortal, there’s something about Louis. Perhaps it’s that he reminds JJ a bit of Doc. JJ decides not to worry about it. 

“I’m in your mobile as Byron,” he murmurs into the boy’s ear. He honestly doesn’t know if Louis will ever contact him but knows he’ll be watching One Direction’s career quite closely. He hopes Doc will, too. JJ isn’t cut out for students and if this band is anywhere near as big as JJ thinks they will be— 

…

Byron’s Ghost release their fifth album in the spring of 2012. It is their most successful album to date. The media has decided JJ’s dating every woman he’s ever seen near, Ryan actually has a girlfriend who a stalker!fan reveals is trans, and Louis Tomlinson finally calls after nearly three years on the brink of a panic attack because he’s been informed that his mutually utter adoration of Harry Styles will be the downfall of their band. 

“I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t,” Louis sobs and JJ wishes Doc were present so that he could hand this off. He’s never been good at comforting, not the way Ryan or Doc can be. 

“Louis,” JJ says sharply. “Listen to me. Are you listening?” 

“Yes,” Louis mumbles. 

JJ gentles his tone. “Do you love him? Could you give him up?” 

“I couldn’t,” Louis says. 

“Do you want to keep making music?” JJ asks. On the television, ‘Little Things’ plays; JJ mutes it. 

“I do,” Louis whispers. 

“Remember what I told you,” JJ says. “Contracts end. You’re nearly halfway through.” 

“But will it ruin us?” The boy sounds anguished. JJ really wants Doc to tell him what to say. 

“No,” JJ answers. Because even if their band stops selling out arenas, it’s possible that he and Harry will live for centuries. JJ once would have given anything for a love like theirs, though he’s come to realize recently that love might not actually be for him.

“Okay,” Louis says. He exhales slowly while JJ watches their video play. 

“We’ve begun writing the next album,” Louis tells him. “I’ve negotiated so that we can write more for it. I want—I’ve written so many things.” 

“You have an audience,” JJ says. He so dearly loves the internet. He and Doc have discussed at length how utterly amazing the internet is, and while Ryan agrees, he can’t fully understand. He’s so young. 

“Okay,” Louis repeats. “Um. Thank you.” 

JJ laughs, leaning back in his chair. “You’re very welcome. You can call anytime, Louis. I wouldn’t have given you my number otherwise.” 

“Right,” Louis mutters. “Uh, I’ll let you get back to—whatever. Bye.” He hangs up. 

JJ laughs again, letting his mobile fall. 

…

JJ buys all of Byron’s Ghost tickets to the Take Me Home tour in whatever location is closest to their abode. He chooses Melbourne for his own show and doesn’t bother informing anyone. 

“One Direction, really?” Sally, their drummer, asks. A more cynical soul he’s never met (and he knows _Doc_.) 

JJ shrugs. “The tickets are yours to do with what you will.” 

Sally sighs. “Well, my sisters and mum have been looking for something all of us can do together.” 

Raj and Yas (twins, and the bassist and electric guitarist) end up gifting their tickets to some charity while Ryan and his girlfriend Melinda make a date night of their concert in Philadelphia. 

For his show in Melbourne, JJ calls Doc to ask, “Where will you be on October 17?” 

.

While romantic love is something JJ has finally admitted to himself he doesn’t truly need or want, he does still enjoy sex sometimes. “Are you trying to woo me?” Doc asks at the restaurant the night they arrive in Melbourne, two nights before the concert. 

JJ nods, smiling despite himself. “I’ve not had a tumble in years.” 

Doc laughs, shaking his head. “Then let’s hurry.” 

. 

When JJ is not playing up the part of _JJ Byron_ he can generally move about in public without being spotted. Doc is the master of going unnoticed. Their tickets are fairly decent and they manage to go for nearly the whole show before one of the women down the row recognizes JJ. Her mouth drops open as she glances from the boys on the stage to where JJ is dancing in place, and JJ only realizes he’s been spotted when Doc shifts over and brings his finger to his lips. 

JJ pulls his ticket out of his pocket, scribbles _JJ Byron_ with the pen Doc always carries, and then Doc grabs the ticket from him and eels his way along the row to shove it into the woman’s hand. 

JJ had texted Louis right before the concert started, asking, _Where are you going to be after the show?_ so when it ends, Doc quickly gets them out of the crowd and they wait in a nearby park for Louis to reply. 

He does before long and it turns out, conveniently enough, that they’re simply going back to their hotel, which Louis is more than happy to give JJ the floor and room number of. “Which two are ours?” Doc asks as they sneak into the correct room. The boys haven’t made it back yet and JJ makes himself comfortable on the sofa while Doc snoops around. 

“The one with the curls and the short one,” JJ says. Louis is very unhappy that all of his bandmates have grown taller than him and he may have accidently drunk texted JJ about it once. JJ has, of course, never once reminded Louis of the incident. 

“They do like their tattoos, don’t they?” Doc comments. 

JJ snickers, stretching out his arms and legs. “You know, I’ve thought of getting a tattoo once or twice,” he muses. 

“Really?” Doc slumps on the bed nearest JJ, a book in his hand. “What of?”

“Some of Lord Byron’s poetry, of course,” JJ says. “One of the lesser known verses, I think.” 

Doc laughs, holding up the book. “I have found a volume of the Romantics. Shall I recite for you?” 

JJ cackles, clapping. “Oh, please do.” 

. 

After a poem and a half, the boys come barreling in, shouting and laughing. Because they had warning from the baby-buzzes, Doc and JJ disappear into the bathroom while Liam says goodnight to their security. After the door closes, JJ slips back into the room. Louis is watching with his arms crossed and a smirk. JJ grins at him. 

“Oh, shit!” Niall yelps and Doc laughs as he follows JJ. “JJ Byron!” Niall continues, waving his hands. “You’re in Louis’ hotel room?” 

“Yeah, thought I’d catch the show tonight,” JJ says, throwing himself onto the sofa next to Liam. “Boys, this is my very old friend Adam Mathews. Doc, these are the boys.” He gestures expansively. “Liam, Zayn, Niall, Harry, and Louis.” 

Doc smiles, nodding. “Boys,” he says. “JJ has told me good things.” He’s changed his accent to sound like he’s from Brooklyn in the States for some reason. 

“Are you a musician?” Harry asks, dancing a little in place. His gaze keeps darting to Louis; JJ isn’t sure he’s even aware of it. He presses his lips together so that he doesn’t laugh. 

“No, I’m a linguist,” Doc says, changing his accent again. “I met JJ in school.” 

“A linguist?” Louis asks, leaning into Harry, who settles down immediately. 

Doc’s smile widens. “JJ told me you’ve written songs for the next album? I look forward to it.” 

Liam bounces beside JJ. “It feels more like us,” he says. 

“What do you normally do after a show?” Doc asks, retrieving the poetry volume from where he’d left it on the floor. He shares a quick glance with JJ, knowing what Byron’s Ghost does once the concert is over. JJ isn’t a partier anymore but still puts in an appearance because the only thing worse than allowing paparazzi to take embarrassing shots is to have people wondering what secrets you’re hiding. 

“We’re on a crazy schedule,” Zayn says. “Lately, we’ve just been sleepin’.” 

“We’ll let you get to it, then,” JJ says. “Just wanted to pop in, see ya.” As he stands, he ruffles Liam’s hair. “It was a good show, lads. I’ll be sure to mention the new album in some of my interviews.” 

“Really?” Niall demands. He throws himself across Liam, shouting something. 

JJ raises an eyebrow and decides to ignore it. “You have my number, Louis,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let me know when you’re back in London. We should catch up.” 

“Sure,” Louis says, shaking his hand. If it didn’t seem that Louis were supporting most of Harry’s weight, he’d pull the kid into a hug. 

“Boys,” JJ calls to the others with a wave and Doc says, “Good luck with the rest of your tour.” They all chorus goodbye. Doc drops the book on the bed before following JJ to the door, Zayn trailing behind them. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs with brilliant smile before closing the door. 

“To my flat or your house?” JJ asks Doc. 

Doc shrugs. “Which has better beer?” 

.

They’re stretched out side-by-side on JJ’s bed, somewhere around lunchtime, and Doc murmurs, “If they weren’t so high-profile.” 

JJ has never spent much time among his own kind, and the only awakening he’s ever been present for was his own. “What are you plotting, Doctor?” he asks. 

Doc chuckles slightly, rolling over to grin at him before he pushes off the bed to saunter to the toilet. JJ pouts after him but he isn’t actually worried. There’s a reason he’d told Doc when he discovered they were pre-immortal after all. 

The shower turns on. “Either join me or go find food!” Doc calls, so JJ rolls off the bed. 

…

Byron’s Ghost go on tour for 2014 (June through November), Ryan’s girlfriend breaks up with him because she finally decides she can’t handle his level of fame, Sally proposes to her own girlfriend, and the twins talk about going their own way once the tour is over. Because he’s got so much going on, those darling pre-immortals slip his mind until he catches sight of someone in the background of a pap shot. 

“Ryan!” he shouts, rewinding the video, pausing it on that face. 

“What?” Ryan mumbles, shuffling into the room. “Was almost sleep.” 

JJ scoots over, patting the bed beside him. He waits until Ryan is slumped against him to tilt the laptop and hit play. He watches again, still just as bewildered, and then turns his face to watch Ryan’s expression. 

Ryan just looks confused. “Why am I watching One Direction enter a stadium?” 

“Him!” JJ says, jabbing at the screen. “Him, that guy right there. Don’t you recognize him?” 

Shrugging, Ryan presses his face into JJ’s shoulder. “Am I ‘s’posed to?” 

“He’s an old friend of Doc’s,” JJ says. 

“Oh,” Ryan mumbles. “Um. I’ve heard things about some of his old friends.” 

JJ watches the video twice more, trying to determine if the guy (what was his name? JJ had been stoned out of his mind the one time they met) is hunting them but it honestly seems more like he’s guarding them. So he digs around in the bedclothes for his mobile and calls Doc. 

. 

“Yes, I hired them a bodyguard,” Doc murmurs. “Now, hush, child, I’m in a museum trying to appreciate art.” He snickers. “Again, they’re completely wrong.” 

“Where are you?” JJ asks. He’s currently in Auckland and supposed to be resting for tomorrow’s show, Ryan snoring beside him. 

“The Met,” Doc says. “There’s an exhibit on the European Renaissance.” He chuckles again. “I do so love how mortals interpret things.” 

“Wait, you hired a bodyguard?” JJ demands, sitting up. “An immortal bodyguard for two pre-immortals who don’t know about The Game?” 

“I called in a favor, JJ, don’t worry.” Doc uses that soothing tone, the one that wrapped around JJ when he’d first woken up, all those years ago. “It’s dangerous for us all, if something happens while cameras are watching. So I called in a very old favor.” 

“Okay,” JJ says. “I trust you, Doc. I’ll let you get back to the art.” 

“Rest up for your concert,” Doc orders. “And get me a ticket for your last show in London.” 

“Of course.” JJ yawns and then adds, “I’ll give your love to Ryan,” before ending the call and letting his mobile drop. 

.

“It’s entirely too early to be alive,” JJ mutters as soon as the interviewer introduces him. 

“Well, you heard it straight from JJ Byron’s mouth!” Grimshaw laughs. 

“I apologize to all the early birds out there,” JJ says once he’s sipped his tea. “I’ve ever been more of a night owl, as it were.” 

“It’s the rock star’s lot, innit?” Grimshaw asks. “JJ, would you like to intro the next song? I’m sure you’ll recognize it.” 

JJ nods, making sure the microphone can pick him up. “Of course, Nick. It only took Ryan and I three years to write—not sure I’ll ever forget ‘Lamenting.’” He grins. “It’s a bit upbeat for that name, I suppose, but to anyone who’s ever found themselves able to live again, here’s ‘Lamenting’ for you.” 

The music rolls in, eerie for just a moment before it mellows out. “We would’ve renamed it, you know,” he tells Grimshaw as he leans back in his seat. “If the label hadn’t been so annoying, I mean.” 

Grimshaw laughs again. “Once we’re back, would you mind tellin’ us the full story?” 

JJ sips his tea again. For everything that’s changed over the years, how he takes his tea hasn’t. It can be grounding, sometimes. “I could do, maybe,” he agrees. 

.

“Well, now we’ve time for one more question,” Grimshaw says. JJ muffles a yawn against the back of his hand as Grimshaw says, “Okay, two more. First, what are you going to do when you leave here?” 

“Go crawl back into my bed,” JJ says. “Until 2, at least. Then Ryan or Sally will drag me out so we can prepare for tonight’s concert.” 

It’s the last of the tour, a Friday evening midway through November; Doc’s actually waiting for him back in bed, probably bundled in all the blankets. 

“And the final question,” Grimshaw says. He nods to one of the others, who makes something _ding_. “JJ Byron, what is the most played song in your iPod?” 

JJ laughs. “You know, I’m actually enamored with ‘Girl Almighty’ right now.” Grimshaw raises an eyebrow as JJ continues, “I haven’t had it long enough for it to be the most-played, but there’s something about the lyrics,” and he sings, “ _Let's pray we stay young, stay made of lightning_.” 

“Well, thank you, JJ, for stoppin’ by to see us,” Grimshaw says. “And, why not, here’s ‘Girl Almighty’ by the boys from One Direction!” 

JJ stands and stretches his arms before offering his hand to Grimshaw. “Have a good day,” he tells the mortal as he grabs his (well, Doc’s) coat, nodding to everyone else in the room. He doesn’t take the offered guide back to the door and slowly works his way down the stairs instead of riding the elevator, humming. 

As he slides into the car the label insists he takes places, greeting the driver, he laughs as he texts his band, _How annoyed would our fans be if we covered Girl Almighty tonight?_ He truly does enjoy the song but unfortunately it doesn’t really fit the aesthetic for Byron’s Ghost. 

.

“You should feel honored,” Doc says as he tugs the blankets back so that JJ can join him. “I actually woke up to listen to your interview.” 

“Nothing has ever honored me more,” JJ murmurs. 

JJ doesn’t actually fall back asleep, regretfully, but it is a pleasant few hours he spends quiet and warm, listening to Doc breathe and reminiscing on the good times. There were so many over the years. 

“You still think entirely too loudly,” Doc says when he finally sits up. “Come, let’s find lunch.” As Doc throws on clothes, he asks, “Have you gotten tickets for the next tour?” 

“Next tour?” JJ follows him to the door without bothering to pull on a shirt. The flat is silent, so Ryan and the others must not have made it back yet.

“Those two infants you so adore?” Doc drawls, smirking over his shoulder. 

“I hadn’t yet, no,” JJ says, leaning against the counter while Doc digs around in the refrigerator. “Any preferences as to which continent?” 

“I’ll leave that up to you,” Doc says. “Hmm, not much on offer for lunch.” He sighs long-sufferingly. “I suppose we should call Ryan, see if he’s on the way back yet.” 

JJ snorts. “Do whatever you must.” 

.

After the concert, when JJ’s tucked away in a corner of the nightclub and his band is making a mess of things, JJ checks his phone for the first time in hours. 

_Thank you,_ Louis Tomlinson has texted. 

JJ grins and replies, _It was no trouble at all. It’s a good album._

“JJ!” Ryan shouts, darting over to grab his arm. “Dance with me!” 

JJ’s schedule for 2015 is entirely clear except for writing. It hasn’t been announced yet that Yas and Raj are leaving, ready to pursue other things; Sally is going to settle down with her fiancée and return to school for a doctorate. JJ himself wants to wrote poetry again.

Ryan spins him around, brimming with life and laughter, and JJ shakes off tomorrow’s thoughts for this: dancing with his band on a night of triumph, awake and young and alive. 

…


End file.
